Unspeakable Horrors
by Avoline Malfoy
Summary: Draco is a Healer, and has settled into the hectic routine. But when a young woman comes in with severe burns all over her body, Draco just might end up doing more than just healing her...
1. Burned

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

_If you want THIS one to live, go vote in the poll. You guys determine which one you like best, and I'll make it come alive._

_Love always,_

_Avoline_

* * *

Draco made his way down the halls of St. Mungo's. As the hospital's top Healer, he had grown used to being at a constant fast pace. He had actually managed to perfect a stride that was some mix between walking and running, making it quicker to get from one patient to another without getting winded during the day.

"Healer Malfoy," a young mediwitch, Cassandra, called. "There's a new patient in room four who need immediate attention."

"What's the case, Cassie," he inquired, stopping at the mediwitch station to listen.

"Young witch, about twenty-five, brought in only a few minutes ago with major burns all over her body," she informed. "She's unconscious right now, but I know you prefer burn victims that way."

"Yeah, cause then I don't have to hear them scream when I apply the ointment," he laughed, turning to stride to the room. If her whole body was covered in burns, then he would have to move quick to get an ID on her. The quicker he began healing the burns and easing her pain, the better.

"Here's the ointment, sir," another mediwitch, Leanne, breathed. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. No matter how hard she tried, he just couldn't make himself think of her as anything but a coworker. There was no room for romance in the work place, and that's how it needed to be.

He grabbed the jar and started applying the ointment on the woman's face. He wanted an idea of what she looked like, simply for his preference. Once he was pleased with the amount of medicine in that area, he continued with the rest of her body. It would take a bit of time, but soon, the pain would disappear, and she would wake up.

"M-M-Malfoy."

He stopped. That voice. It had been years since he heard it, but he could never forget it. It was the source of so much emotion, and he had somewhat feared that he would never get to hear it again.

But it couldn't be. She had married her boyfriend of two years about six years ago, and last he heard, they were happier than ever. It just wasn't possible that she was the patient he was trying to heal. He had to know, though. If it was her, then this changed everything, in every way.

He looked up to see the dark chocolate gaze of Hermione Granger-Weasley.


	2. Digging for Clues

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

_So, I guess this one is the one to make it to completion. I might keep the other two around just because, but this one will definitely be the one to reach completion first. :) Never realized Draco/Hermione was such a big item._

_Here's the next chapter for you guys. This story will probably change in genre a few times, but I promise to stick with what it's set to now._

_Love always,_

_Avoline_

* * *

Draco gently rubbed in the last of the salve, then closed the jar and set it on the table near the bed. He had ordered the mediwitch to leave the room once he learned that he was tending to none other than Hermione Granger-Weasley, and spent the rest of the time up until now whispering soothing things to her. She was scared, of what he didn't know yet, and her body was tender in some areas, to the point all he had to do was very gently graze the spot and she would whimper in pain. Her face, thankfully, was already looking half-way healed, letting him know that it had taken the least of the burns.

"Granger," he murmured. "Oh, Granger, what happened?" Her charred eyelids slid open, and he felt his heart break at the lifelessness in her gaze.

"It was just an accident," she breathed.

"Just an accident," he echoed. "You've got burns so bad in some spots that even _air _brings you more pain that possible! This was no accident!" He had to fight back a wave of tears. Gods, he didn't realize his feelings had grown since second year. "Just tell me. Please."

He knew he shouldn't care about her like this. They were from totally separate worlds, and his father would never approve of her. But a part of him had always felt attached to her. Everything she had done since the moment in the bookshop had made her that much more appealing to him, even though he would act annoyed with her. When he was given the task of killing Dumbledor, he had accepted it eagerly. But when the reality of what could happen to her if Voldemort was to rise to full poser hit him, he drove himself to a nervous breakdown with guilt. Then, watching Bellatrix torture the brilliant witch, knowing that it would be her life forever if Potter failed, had brought tears to his eyes, tears he had to hide.

Just like the tears that were threatening his composure now.

"He'll kill me if I tell you," her voice replied. "He'll kill me..." He sighed.

"Granger, I have to know," he pleaded. "Burns this severe, as with any severe injury, have to be reported to the Aurors." Her eyes widened, and for the first time since she woke up, there was emotion in the dark brown pools: fear.

"Don't," she muttered. "Please, I'm begging you, don't. He'll kill us all if the Aurors are brought it. Draco, he'll kill everyone!" He held up his hands, hoping to calm her down quickly. She didn't need to get worked up.

_Dammit, Weasley, where are you when I need you?_

"Calm down, Granger," he soothed. "They won't come for a few days anyway. He doesn't have to know." She held his gaze, more scared than he had ever seen her.

For the first time since the Basilisk was loose in Hogwarts, Draco wanted nothing more than to hold her close and tell her that she was safe.

* * *

Draco stepped inside the Manor and set his bag next to the door. His elf, Mattie, popped into the room.

"Evening, Master," she greeted.

"Evening, Mattie," he responded. "Where is my father?"

"Master Lucius is in his study." Draco nodded and went straight for the stairs. He needed to talk with Lucius about how to get the information out of Hermione so that he would have something to tell the Aurors. Until he found out who harmed her, he couldn't allow her to leave.

He wouldn't allow her to leave.

He knocked on the oak door, hoping to get permission quickly.

"Come in," Lucius's voice called through the thick wood. Draco quickly opened the door and stepped inside. Lucius looked up from his desk. "Ah, Draco. How was your day?"

"Eventful," the younger man answered, closing the door behind him. "I've got a patient who was seriously burned all over her body." Lucius cringed. "I know it couldn't have been an accident, but she won't tell me who did it. All she keeps saying is that he'll kill her." Draco sat in one of the chairs across the large desk from his sire. "I need to know if you have any tips on how to get the necessary information out of her." Lucius sighed.

"First off, is she married," he inquired. Draco nodded. "I'd look at the husband first. Allow him to come see her, and she if her demeanor changes when he's around. If not, then it's not him. If I might ask, do you happen to know her?"

"You know I can't tell you that," Draco responded.

"I'm only asking cause you've never been this concerned with a patient before," he countered. "Which leads me to believe that you know her personally. What are you going to do if she's not allowed to go back to her home?"

"I'll bring her here. I am allowed to do that much."

"Will you at least warn me before you do?"

"Of course. This is still your house last I checked." Lucius nodded.

"Get her as healed as possible first, son. I don't want you to work yourself to death." Draco sighed.

"I know, Father, I know. I just... I want to make sure that all of my patients are safe when they leave, and if I let her go back home and she comes back on the brink of death again, I won't be able to forgive myself."

"I understand. More then you realize." Draco nodded, his mind wandering back to the sight of Hermione's charred body.

_Merlin, please, let me help her._


	3. A Shocking Fact

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

_Y'all just a bunch of Ron-hatin' people, ain't ya?_

_Yeah, I just let my country side out. Don't mind it too much. I don't blame any of you one bit for hating on Ronald. He's been a total jerk to her before, and I honestly don't see why JKR put him with Hermione. Sure, they balance each other out, but Hermione can do better than Ron._

_So, on to the story. It's time for Draco to bring in the husband, one Ronald Bilius Weasley. Who's ready for a plot twist?_

_Sit back and enjoy._

_Love always,_

_Avoline_

* * *

Draco quickly made his way to the mediwitches station. He had to bring in Ron and see if maybe he was the reason Hermione was so scared. She deserved better than him in Draco's opinion. She deserved someone who understood her intelligence and could match it, not insult it. She deserved to be treated like a queen.

She deserved to feel safe.

"Cassie," he called as he neared the large desk, "floo Mrs. Weasley's house and ask her husband to come here."

"I would, Draco, but there's a small problem," she answered. He stopped in his tracks and met her eyes. "He was found dead about a year ago."

His jaw dropped. Ron Weasley was dead? But how? Why had he not known about this before now? Did the whole wizarding world know besides him?

_It was probably announced in the Daily Prophet._

"How," he managed, his heart breaking just a bit for Hermione. "Why am I just now finding out?"

"I thought you knew," she replied. "His throat was slashed, and, of course, it was done with a Muggle blade. The killer is still at large cause the fools at the Auror office can't track down anything non-magical." He shook his head in disbelief.

_Poor Hermione._

"So she's a widow," he questioned in disbelief. Cassandra nodded. "Damn. So now what?"

"Bring in one of her brother in laws," the mediwitch offered. "There's four to choose from."

"Sure, bring in one of them," he replied. "I'm going to check on her." He strode down the hall towards Hermione's room. Of all the things she's had to deal with, loosing her husband should have been the last thing on that list. She needed him, now more than ever, and some primitive fool went and slit his throat with a Muggle blade.

"Hermione," he whispered as he entered the room. Her brown eyes met his, and he felt his heart break just a bit. "How are you feeling?"

He knew he didn't have to ask her that, but he did. Just looking at her, he knew that she probably felt at least ninety percent better. There were barely any visible signs that she was ever burned, and her skin was starting to regain its normal color. Her eyes had a light to them that he hadn't seen since their years at Hogwarts.

_If only there was a way to make her hair grow back faster._

"I'm feeling much better," she answered softly. "Thank you, Malfoy." He chuckled and pulled a chair up to her bed, sitting in it and fighting to keep from grabbing her hand.

"Good," he responded. "I was scared that I was going to lose you." She laughed and shook her head.

"Not quite," she countered. "I've dealt with worse." His brow knitted together as she shook her head. "But that's for another day."

_Yeah, you bet it is._

"True," he responded. "Nothing to fool with now."

* * *

Draco knocked on the solid door, then entered once permitted.

"So," Lucius began, not looking up from his paperwork, "how's the patient?" The younger man sat in a leather chair.

"Healing nicely," he replied. "Ran into a rather large obstacle." Matching eyes met. "Her husband was murdered last year."

"Oh, the poor thing," the older wizard muttered. "So Mrs. Weasley is a widow?" Draco nodded.

"Which makes my job harder," he growled. Then he raised an eyebrow. "And I never mentioned her name..." Lucius chuckled.

"Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out on my own," he questioned. "She's the only witch who's husband was killed within the past year. Poor thing could barely keep it together at his funeral." Draco shook his head, amazed that his father was still keeping up with things.

"If I know the rest of the Weasley's, which I do, they wouldn't have the heart to harm her like this," he wondered aloud. "But maybe they know someone who would."

"She does have quite the list of scorned ex-lovers," Lucius pondered. "But they're all Gryffindors. I wouldn't think a Gryffindor would be capable of doing much physical damage to anyone." Draco smirked just a bit.

"You have no clue what Gryffindors are capable off."

* * *

_A/N: I know, I know. I haven't been on lately. I've been working insane hours and spending as much time with the baby and the husband as possible. So, here's a short, but (IMO) important chapter for you guys for being so patient. :)_

_Love always,_

_Avoline_


	4. George's Confession

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

_Alright, guys. I just got a quick little inspiration for this story. Once again, work has gotten in the way, and I finally made time to sit down and write. This one might be a bit short, but I promise, once I get a better work schedule, that the chapters will get better._

_So, without further ado, here is the next chapter. :)_

_Love always,_

_Avoline_

* * *

Draco set the clipboard on the desk in his office. Hermione's case was getting more difficult the more he tried to get information out of her. He was grasping straws at this point, and was praying one of the Weasley's would give him something to go on.

He sighed and shook his head. They probably wouldn't want to speak to him. Even if it meant saving Hermione's life.

"Sir?" He looked up to see Evelyn, a new intern, standing at his door. "George Weasley is here to speak to you." He breathed a sigh of relief as he rose from his chair.

George was the only one who he felt was completely honest with him. Percy still acted as though they were back at Hogwarts; Bill was cordial, but still hesitant; Charlie was a scarce sight; Ginny still didn't trust him. Draco needed that honesty right now.

"Ferret," George greeted as the blond man neared. Draco managed a smile at the familiar nickname. He had learned to accept the moniker after Fred's death, when George spent months not speaking to anyone.

"George," he answered. "How are you holding up?" George smiled, something that was rare even to his own family. Draco was honored to be one of the few to see it anymore.

"Doing better," came the reply. "Thanks for asking. I'm sure you're needing info on 'Mione." Draco nodded and lead the still grieving man to his office. "To be honest, Malfoy, I can't tell you who she's been with lately. She was staying with me and Angelina at the flat after Ron's..." The duo fell silent.

"But then she disappeared," Draco guessed. George nodded.

"She won't tell us who it is, and we rarely see her anymore. But when we do, she's covered in bruises and cuts. Every once in a while, she'll be nursing a broken arm or a sprained wrist." He collapsed into a chair and took a shaky breath. "I wish I knew who was behind it, Draco. It's getting worse, and now this." His pleading blue eyes met Draco's steel gaze. "Please, you have to help her. Take her home with you, keep her here for good, just don't let her go back to that monster."

"I've already made arrangements with my father," Draco informed. "She'll be staying with me. She doesn't know yet, so stay quiet. Potter's going to escort her to the Manor." George nodded and closed his eyes.

"I wish I could be more help," he whispered.

"You still can be," Draco assured. "She'll open up to you. She trust you. See if you can just happen to get a name out of her without her knowing." The red-head nodded.

"I'll try, Malfoy," he muttered. "If it means she'll be safe again." Draco nodded and lead the fearful man to her room.

He still had a lot of work to do.

* * *

Draco apparated just in front of the manor, landing smoothly on his feet. His brow knitted together at the sight of a note stuck to the front doors.

"Maybe George found something out," he murmured under his breath. He reached for the parchment, and knew instantly it wasn't from George.

_Keep interfering, and I'll do to you what I should have done to her. -CM_

Draco yanked the door open and ran for his father's study. Whoever was harming Hermione knew, and was determined to keep his identity a secret. He didn't even knock on the oak door, trotting to the mahogany desk and sliding the letter into Lucius's line of vision.

"He knows," he gasped. "He knows I'm investigating, and he knows I'm treating Hermione." Lucius read over the note, shaking his head as he did so.

"But how," he questioned.

"I don't know," the younger man answered. "We need to put wards up, and soon. He's pissed, and he's out for blood." Lucius nodded and rose from his seat.

"Then lets get to it. Bring her here tomorrow."


	5. Protecting Hermione

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

_It has been a while since I've updated this story. Finally got inspired for the next chapter. And there will be a HUGE twist. I'm not going to tell, just look for it._

_Sit back and enjoy, cause Hermione isn't going to be happy about this._

_Love always,_

_Avoline_

* * *

Draco looked up from his paperwork as a screech resonated through the Manor. He had the day off to prepare for Hermione's arrival, but he had no clue she would be that unhappy about it. He stepped out of his office at the same time Lucius did.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMN MIND?"

"She doesn't seem very thrilled," Lucius mused.

"No, she doesn't," Draco echoed. "Good thing Mother went shopping with Aunt 'Dromeda." The duo made their way down the stairs to the foyer, and Draco stifled a laugh.

Harry was pressed against the front doors, terror written on his face, as a furious Hermione screamed her displeasure. He was the only thing between her and the door, and she seemed determined to make him move and let her leave.

"Hermione, this is the safest place for you," he argued calmly, though his expression said otherwise. "We can't allow you to go home with as severe as your injuries were. We had to arrange somewhere for you to stay."

"You, of all people, know good and DAMN WELL what went down in THIS FUCKING MANOR," she barked, causing him to visibly shrink.

"It was my idea," Draco piped up, hoping to save Potter any more of her wrath. Her brown eyes met his, and he almost stopped where he was. That fire in her eyes, the fire that he had grown quite fond of, was back where i belonged. The Hermione he knew had returned, and boy was she pissed. "I had to two my job as Head Healer, and you know good and well exactly what that requires. By law, I could not discharge you without knowing you would be safe."

"So YOU did this," she snapped, storming towards him. He rose up to full height, determined to not let her win. He was not scared of her, but scared _for_ her. If she left and went to wherever she was staying, she might not live to see another day. He had to protect her from McLaggen. He had already failed at too many tasks.

If he failed her, it would destroy him.

"You have to stay here, Hermione," he growled, stopping her in her tracks. "As your current Healer, it is my job to make sure you are safe. This house currently has the most powerful wards there are protecting it. That includes you. Now I have spent most of the day preparing a bedroom for you and making sure you would be comfortable." She backed down, but he knew better. She was going to come up with another reason to leave.

He had already prepared for that.

"My Mother is has already acquired your clothing size, and is currently shopping for you," he continued. "The library is free for you to use at your disposal, and if you need anything else, simply let my Mother, Father, one of the elves, or myself know."

She stared at him, jaw hanging. He had won this debate. She would have to get used to it.

But she wasn't through, he was sure.

"So the Malfoys have no problem being seen with a Muggle-born," she spat. "One who happens to be devoid of hair, or did I fail to mention that?" He sighed.

"Hermione, in case you have forgotten, you almost didn't make it," he reminded softly. "Had it not been for the fact that I was on duty, there's no telling what would have happened."

"He's right, 'Mione," Harry cut in. "He's the best St. Mungo's has. The burns nearly killed you, and he saved your life. I wouldn't do this if I didn't trust him." She sighed, clearly too tired to fight.

"You need to rest," Draco ordered. "I could show you to the library and you can divulge in a book or two before dinner, or I can show you to your room and you can rest in there." She turned to Harry.

"Go on, 'Mione," he reassured. "You'll be fine." She nodded and turned back to Draco.

"Take me to my room," she requested. "I need a little time to myself." He nodded and motioned for her to follow him.

* * *

"Here it is," he announced as he opened the door. "There's an en suite bathroom and a full wardrobe. The sheets are brand new, as are the pillows." He stepped back and allowed her to enter her new living quarters. He washed her gaze wander, from the beige duvet to the large vanity mirror. She stared at her reflection for a while before he noticed the tears in her eyes. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Ron wouldn't be able to recognize me," she whispered. "Not with the way I look now. Not with all the scars." He furrowed his brow.

"What scars," he inquired. "Hermione, what are you not telling me?" She turned to him, and Draco gasped as the glamour charm dropped.

There were deep scars all over her face. The most prominent one ran down her face, from her hairline to her cheek bone, somehow missing her eye by inches. He noticed another one that ran from the inner corner of one eye, across her nose, to the inner corner of the other eye. Another one ran down her left cheek, across her jawline, and down bellow the collar of her shirt.

He felt like throwing up.

"Hermione," he breathed. "Oh gods, what happened?" She shook her head.

"Draco, I can't tell you," she answered. "He'll kill us. He'll kill us all, just like he did Ron." Draco stepped forward and grabbed her hand reassuringly.

Merlin, this felt so right. Having her there in his home, holding her hand, soothing all her fears. It felt so natural to him, yet he knew it would never happen. The scar on her arm, the faintest of all her scars, reminded him every day of how hard he pushed her away. He knew no amount of explaining would undo the pain he had caused her. No amount of pleading would make her forgive and forget.

"He can't get within a hundred yards of this house," he stated softly. "You can tell me what happened." She shook her head as a tear slipped from her eye.

"I can't," she repeated. He sighed and accepted defeat. She wasn't going to tell him. He would have to wait until she felt secure.

"Okay," he soothed. "Just rest. Dinner should be ready soon."


End file.
